The War of the Telling
by Deesse
Summary: A war threatens, foretold by the High Queen herself. A war that will reveal secrets never told, but will it right the wrongs of old? (R for violence and romance - not JS)
1. Musings

In his throne room he sat, lounging as was his want, expression bored and seemingly unimpressive. If the messenger from the Fey Court had known him at all, he would have been wary, would have taken a number of steps backwards, perhaps even left. As it was, the messenger, pompous and full of his own self importance stood his ground, proclaiming this and that, and that again. Jareth's eyes became harder, colder, though his expression itself changed not a whit. ".You will present yourself at the Court in precisely one month with your intended bride or one will be presented to you. By order of the High King, you are required to marry and secure your line, and further the progression of the Fey race." he didn't get any further, with a negligent gesture the messenger disappeared. Thinking better of sending a messenger of the High King himself, no matter his attitude, into the Bog, Jareth deposited him in a far corner of the labyrinth to find his way out, and back to the Court again. He would have to send written acknowledgment and acceptance in any case; the messenger was largely unimportant. He would also think better of taunting the Goblin King again.  
  
Jareth stood, running a hand through his spiky blond hair, tired and jaded with life in the Underground, wishing for some reprieve or distraction from the endless demands of the Faerie Court to see him wed, and, not unlike a prized eagle or gryphon, bred. 'For the progression of the Faerie race' it made him angry just thinking about it. He was not going to be forced, not going to sacrifice himself just so that his race would multiply in numbers and strength against the foretold war. Far from disbelieving in the well- known Telling, he lacked belief that sheer numbers if successfully produced would halt and defeat it when at last it came. In any case, the winds, magic driven and laden scented its beginnings already. Too late to wait for babes to birth and grow, he believed they should have long past, concentrated on improving and practising of defensive magic.  
  
Placing a hand upon the castle walls, looking over his kingdom, it had been long indeed since it had seen the blood and destruction war brought with it. Longer still had the Faerie kingdoms been without threat or par, until this Telling. Sometimes he thought that the only reason anything at all was being done about the war, was that the Telling had come from the High Queen herself. Even then, she seemed more intent on proclaiming marriages and blessing babes rather than any actual defence of their realm. He loved his world, his realm, his kingdom, even his goblins, but he was jaded with the Court and its politics and purpose. He remembered the fleeting time when the mortal Sarah had taken on his great labyrinth, and, beaten it for her younger brother. So long ago, he'd looked upon her mortal life occasionally, never again partaking of the wonders of Aboveground, simply admiring and remembering, until she had passed on, old and silver, her blue eyes still merry and filled with stories and delight. If only one such as her could be found here. Faint hope. Dejected he retired to his private rooms, undressing carelessly, pulling the silk of his bed sheets around him, but finding little sleep or rest as the hours passed. Eventually he stood, curled up upon the open window's sill, staring out across the wild and untamed beauty of his labyrinth and kingdom.  
  
Jareth let his thoughts wander. A time when all had seemed bright and new, he had been admired, respected and not feared as he was now. The Court and its Nobles had admired him then, respected and not feared him. He was the favoured son of the High King, now he was anathema. He had not seen the warning signs, he was popular, his future assured, there was no need to be wary, to worry, he'd thought. The events of his disgrace whirled through and around, back and forth within the Fae king's mind, reigniting the old anguish and betrayal he'd felt upon seeing his sister; his charming and beautiful sister behind their mother's illness. They had believed her and their mother had died, no one had thought to question the young Fae woman's motives, question the almost open hatred she'd had for their mother.  
  
There had been months long arguments over his punishment, some had outcried that he should be made Human, as being made Human was only reserved for the worst and most treasonous of criminals. After it became apparent they were not interested in truth, only in punishment. They made him the Goblin King and passed a terrible sentence upon him - to take those children wished away by foolish and faithless mortals, to keep them forever, never again to see or be part of the Aboveground. Only in time that punishment came to hold its own strange manner of honour, respect, and not a little fear on their part. Eons had passed, many of the shorter-lived Fae of that time had parted, and the younger paid no attention to the stories of their fathers and grandfathers. Even the other long lived families were now sceptical on those fleeting years, only those of his immediate long lived family truly remembered, still punished him even now, treating him as one of the lesser Fae, not their son, not even a distant relation. Fae were sensitive to family ties, and to be accused wrongly of crimes against the family, to be denied the fellowship and blood ties of family was a cruel judgement.  
  
Many times the Court had been forced to admit their blunder in such judgement as branding the Goblin King anathema, at every turn he made it near impossible to deal with him. Messengers went missing, diplomats never even made it through the maze, and neither did the Nobles male - or female. The years had honed the natural cruelty inherent in all Fae, strong in Jareth himself to a fine edge, tempered only by his unwillingness to use it more than necessary. It had been a score of decades since he'd last killed, and even the most staid Court member had been unwilling to condemn his judgement on the stupid Noble, newly appointed to the Court and deciding to 'personally evaluate the efficiency of Jareth's rule of the Goblin Kingdom'.  
  
To his credit, and the surprise of the other Nobles, Jareth had let the pompous ass in, given him the 'long' tour of the labyrinth with detailed explanation. The pedantic and compulsive Noble had near gone into apoplectic shock with what he had feverishly described as 'a deplorable example of Fae rule'. This was immediately followed by his decision to 'recommend the Court reconsider their original judgement of eons past and banish the Fae king, make him Human due to his inability to govern even so rude a race as the Goblins'. The fool had barely finished his words before he was mid air and upside down before the enraged King. Spluttering more indignities and threats had only served to irritate Jareth further and instead of condemning him to the Bog for eternity he had smiled softly, dangerously, letting fly one of his beautiful crystals, it disappeared inside the Noble's body, then shattered, taking the Noble with it.  
  
There had been no repercussions. There had been nothing said, just rumours and whispers flying, and even less attempt to make contact with him, or any other in the Goblin Kingdom. None wanted a repetition of the King's wrath, they had left him alone - today's had been the first messenger since that time. Despite this he wasn't about to drop everything and heel to the Court by taking a bride. Throwing a crystal out into the cold night air, it shattered mid air, showering the ground below in clouds of glitter, he sighed realising it had done little to calm the anger he felt inside. They were the ones who had created him this way, moulded him, and though he acted independently, ruled by none, even his father the High King, he still felt the raw wound of betrayal. He thought more and more often on the situation these days, it had become opened and bothersome after the rejection of the mortal Sarah. He'd allowed himself to love, to care, and she'd rejected him, and everything he stood for. He'd forevermore resisted the temptation to contact her again, though had watched, pained as she grew older, less able, and then finally, was there no longer.  
  
Mentally he cursed himself and his depression. It would not help him with the winds bringing the scent of war. Preparations must be made, he knew what he should do, and the cold and ruthless part of him made it seem so easy. Seal the labyrinth and its inhabitants within, the war without unable to breach it. Only, he told himself, what if it did? An even smaller voice still protested his lack of interest in the innocent lives at stake. Sighing he shattered yet another crystal taking to his wings out the window and into the night, flying far and finally relaxing. When he returned exhausted, Jareth finally slept oblivious to the world outside, anguish still evident in his sleeping expression. All the while, the war crept closer, borne on magic laden winds, it grew in strength still far, so far away, but closer and hungrier all the time. 


	2. Surprise Visit

There was no warning. The storm hit his kingdom, and those surrounding, quickly, violently and with sweeping ferocity. Magic raged like a grieving mother, the winds keening as they wrought havoc, unleashing that which was contained, provoking the wild and untamed, fear ran rampant as the storm continued for nigh on a week before disappearing as suddenly as it had come.  
  
Again on his throne, Jareth looked even wearier, even his beautiful, mismatched eyes lacked their cruel edge for exhaustion. He half listened to reports while he contemplated his next move, goblins wanting restitution, extra hands to rebuild and above all, wanting reason and reassurance that it wouldn't happen again. Promises he couldn't give. He authorised monetary restitution, delegated one of the senior goblins to organise work parties to repair the worst of the damage, all the while avoiding any mention of why, or reassurance of never again.  
  
The request chime sounded throughout the room. Jareth looked up and allowed a gate to open for whoever it was requesting an audience. Little though he looked forward to a repeat of the previous performance of the pompous messenger, he also craved release from worry and the feeling that he was helpless on his own to stand against the coming war. The bygone storm had been but one warning, one indication that it was much, much closer than any had first supposed.  
  
"Your Highness." Came a clear voice, smooth and masculine it also held the lilting character of sensuality. The tall fae figure inclined his head, almost bowing. Jareth tried not to allow his surprise to show, it had been many years since anyone had shown him such respect, if at all, he was used only to a slight nodding of the head, he'd forgotten the feeling it inspired. Fellowship, belonging, two things he had nothing of. Curious, he returned the gesture, to the exact degree to which it had been given, also a gesture he hadn't shown any, since last he'd been before his father in the Faerie Court. "Prince Kairyn. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Despite the openly friendly beginning, Jareth could not help the mocking sarcasm that leaked through his tone into his words.  
  
The figure ignored the possible insult, cocked his head as if listening, pausing to consider what to say, how much to reveal. The stance he took was by far the boldest since Sarah had come, "Jareth, I presume you too have felt the brunt of the storm, in my youth and lack of experience, can I ask you to confirm my fear, that it was a maelstrom? A true maelstrom? Not a created magestorm. but true chaos unleashed upon our kingdoms?" Jareth raised an eyebrow, seeing that the young prince made no move to disguise his fear at the prospect of a true maelstrom, and his honesty about his knowledge. What he didn't realise is that far too fae even knew of, let alone believed in the concept of the maelstrom, true chaos of magic unleashed. Now, it was little more than rarely told myth.  
  
"Yes." He answered simply, before continuing. "You are correct, and more insightful than many of your peers. You also face me, despite my past deeds and reputation, why?" The Goblin King paused, "Think carefully, for your answer will determine my next decision." Prince Kairyn blanched slightly, his already pale face, paling further still, his ice blue eyes standing out, overtly showing his confusion. He didn't answer straight away; instead he turned away, walked to the window overlooking the labyrinth, and in the far horizon, his own kingdom. He stood there for a few long minutes, Jareth refrained from demanding his response - the youth intrigued him. Finally the Prince turned to face him again, answering softly, and by no means confidently, though determination was evident in his expression.  
  
"You are one of the elder of the long lived fae, you command mastery of many disciplines of magic, more than most other fae - even the mages. For all the tales of your misdeeds, your temper and cruelty, though rightfully feared, I cannot believe that it is all of you. I cannot believe that you would carelessly throw away your kingdom, or the innocent lives of your goblins, indeed I would hazard a guess that you would not needlessly throw away any innocent life. I humbly offer you my loyalty, as my own minor gift in Telling has indicated to me that it is not through the High King that we will prevail against the foretold war. It will be through you."  
  
This time Jareth was unable to let his surprise stay hidden. "You know this to be true Prince?" His voice was hard, though Kairyn could detect and air of urgency beneath the cold calm exterior. "You have seen, that we will prevail?" The Goblin King's mismatched eyes bore into his, demanding his response, holding him a helpless captive to the elder fae. "N-no, at least. not the way you describe it. b-but yes, I have seen, and the Gift of Telling runs strongly in our family, I am the strongest since my grandmother, she thinks I will surpass her still, she told me to remind you that she defended you to the Court, asked me to convey her blessings. She wanted you to remember her, and advise me. my father has none of her wisdom nor forethought, she fears for our kingdom, for the Underground." The Prince wept, his youth even more evident by his outburst, shaken by the will of the Goblin King "I have not seen that you will prevail, only that if we are to survive at all, it can only be through you. The High King has not the power nor strength nor insight to serve us. My vision speaks that you have what he lacks."  
  
For long minutes, Jareth said nothing. Then abruptly he spoke. "I remember your grandmother. Lilythe. still one of the fairest fae, and now, also one of the wisest, more than once she spoke for me, they never listened, but they could also not dismiss her words, she is known as one of the great Seers. By suggesting you will surpass her, it seems you will also have this same potential, both for use and misuse." He sighed, a frown marring his beautiful face, before continuing. "How many know of your talent?"  
  
"My grandmother. she would not let me reveal it elsewhere, although I faulted her for her secrecy, I begin to understand." The Prince's expression was openly fearful, though trust was beginning to grow, beneath the surface. "We will keep it that way. I too have worried about the upcoming war, and though I do not know what I may do to prevent it, or sate it quickly, I am grateful for the support of the Seers." Almost to himself, Jareth continued, not realising Kairyn still listened. "Perhaps it is time for the pain of anathema to be washed away, festering wounds healed and justice seen." His voice trailed off, his gaze upon the crystal he twirled idly in his hand.  
  
Looking up again he spoke, voice almost overwhelming in its intensity, too many powerful combinations wrought in one creature, even if that creature be one of the fae. "The storms will continue, though I am trying to develop a means of defence, I have so far had little success. Do not use magical wards, the storm will eat them, refrain from magic use as much as possible, again it draws the storms, other than taking cover and waiting out the violence, there is little more you can do." "Thank you, Highness, that is something at least. the Lorin though still governed by my father, nonetheless trust me and I am confident they will also give their loyalty in trust to you. All feel the terror of the war as it travels closer, we do not wish it to destroy us, and thus we must trust you, The Anathema, with our fates." The Lorin Prince bowed again, giving full respect before leaving through the gate still shimmering behind him.  
  
Waving a hand negligently, the gate closed and for many hours the Goblin King sat and contemplated the many possibilities before him, and above all the war, so mysterious and ambiguous in nature, so difficult to define, let alone defeat. It wasn't until the cool light of dawn washed over Jareth's still form that he awoke stiff and sore from sleeping lounged over his throne. Slowly he rose and retired to his apartments to bathe and dress. There were preparations, however inadequate, to be made. Prince Kairyn's visit had left him shocked, further still the words of Lilythe - whom no one ignored and had fortune favour them. While he had no idea of their true motive, nor the truth of their words, there had been nothing of deceit in the boy's scent, nothing malice nor air of manipulation about him. For now, it was wiser to wait, and trust. 


	3. The Keeper of the Lae Speaks

The fanfare served only to intensify Jareth's headache. His glare was almost tangible even to the most self interested noble in the Court. They had summoned. He had come, unwilling, but yet serving the Lae, the code, unwritten, spoken and remembered by the Lae Keepers. essentially the Laws binding the fae, not only by word and deed, but through magic, it was difficult to survive after renouncing the Lae, it was created by no fae, its origin greatly shrouded in mysticism, not even most Lae Keepers would hold that knowledge. only the most senior and almost never seen. Thus he was surprised to see Ilys sitting in place within the Court. Almost imperceptibly she nodded to him, though he kept his expression from showing it, his surprise deepened. First Kairyn and Lilythe. and now one of the Elder Lae Keepers, Jareth's nervousness increased, and his fear over the war and its seriousness deepened.  
  
"We the High greet King Jareth of the Goblin Kingdom, Keeper of the Labyrinth." Jareth's attention turned to the High King and Queen, one of which was a parent he had loved and treasured, been close to, up until Gilel, now not even a flicker of warmth echoed in the deep violet eyes. He mentally shook himself; today would be difficult enough to get through without bringing old memories into it. "I greet your High Majesties this morning." His response though still formal, was blunt and lacked most of the customary finery between lower nobles. Then again, they'd long since trying to treat him as they did the others. To their credit, they didn't even look surprised, still impassive, like stone.  
  
"Will you present your bride Sir?" the High Queen asked, not wasting any time, taking her cue from him. "Nay. I have not yet found one who would spend their days with goblins as subjects, they can hardly be blamed for this." Some of the Nobles twittered, not unlike birds at this comment, mocking him in his simple truth of statement. Never mind that he'd not made any of the many wifely prospects the Queen deemed within his grasp feel particularly welcome. As he'd mentioned, they'd not wanted to be there any more than he'd wanted them either. They'd left willingly, grateful for his rejection. "This is no longer acceptable. You are required to marry and produce children, the fae are in need of growing in numbers, you are the only male of age left without a consort and as such, heirs. You will be required to accept our choice of bride." The Queen nodded, as if to affirm her statement, and put more strength of will into it, than had originally sounded. Jareth sighed, loudly and audibly before replying, one simple word, and yet it sent the entire court into and uproar. "No." He chanced a look at the elder Ilys the only silent fae in the Court now, he alone took notice of the barely concealed rage and defiance in Jareth's words, the danger in his tone. "You no longer have any choice in this matter. It is decreed, you are henceforth affianced with.." but the Queen did not quite get to finish, before Ilys interrupted her with a slight cough. "Elder Keeper of the Lae, you wish to address this matter?" she asked, clearly surprised. Ilys stood. He was silver, almost in flesh as well as eye and hair, which flowed down to his ankles in cascading waves. "I must speak, as the Lae cries out in pain. You may not force this subject to marry against his will. It is against the Lae. You are also foolish if you believe that there is still time to birth and grow warriors to fight this coming war. A war, that is almost upon us, there have already been maelstroms. Not magestorms created by users of magic, pure chaos allowed free reign upon the Underground. The key to our survival now lies with this one. The Lae will not indicate more to us, but urged the giving of this warning, despite almost surety that you will ignore our advice. Wash away the pain of Anathema and welcome him home, or fear annihilation." Ilys sat, slowly and gracefully, showing none of his age and all of his wisdom and mystery in even so simple a movement.  
  
The Queen and King sat open mouthed, a comical sight in most creatures, hilariously so of the fae. "But. no. he is shamed, punished, a criminal - never will we welcome him as kin, never will we embrace that which is anathema to us - you dare to ask this of us! As for the war, it is many years away yet, my visions confirm it so." With that said the Queen turned away from Ilys, her eyes burning at Jareth "You have escaped your duty once again, and stand shamed once again before our Court since you wish to do nothing to prevent this war destroying us." Her own rage was now very obvious, her tall raven haired form visibly shaking from the strain of the powerful emotion.  
  
Jareth met her gaze, "I will support the defence of our world, my goblins have been making preparations, I have been changing and restructuring the magic of the labyrinth as a place of solace from the war, at least the storms at this stage. Any whom do not fear to go against this council, whom do not fear to support me, in my TRUE effort to get through this war is free to approach my castle and speak with me directly." He paused for a moment, as if considering what next to say. "The Seers support the words of Ilys, Elder Lae Keeper, that it is not the time for babes and families, but to defend and protect, unite against this unknown enemy that threatens our very existence. Are we the only ones true to stand against its judgement?" That said, he left, before he could even begin to hear the chaos that followed. Ilys stood, and slowly, gracefully made his way from the chamber, chuckling as he did so, not having expected a show quite so flamboyant and overt, but pleased nonetheless. The time was approaching.  
  
Jareth paced his throne room, hardly able to believe the words he'd spoken, the challenge he'd issued, he was usually far more reserved, and he was unsure why he'd come to such bold statements at such a dangerous and inappropriate time. Still, it was done, and now there was more preparation to make, more counsel to seek and decisions to be put into movement. He strode to the window, thinking to seek out Ilys the Elder's counsel first, only to find the graceful beautiful man standing before him, with all of the Elder and most of the younger Lae Keepers with him also.  
  
His only words were, while Jareth was still speechless from shock "We accept your offer of hospitality, and you will have all our aid." Then, one and all they bowed, deeply to one worthy of great and ancient respect, Jareth continued to stand dumbfounded before he finally managed to speak "I don't understand." Ilys chuckled before replying, "You will. You must. Events move in their own strange patterns, and we can but respond in kind. We will talk more anon, but after this morning, with so much emotion running rampant - not a little of it yours, boyo, I must rest." Shaking himself out of reverie, Jareth nodded, still bewildered "Of course Keeper, my servants will help you." As he watched them leave, he stood dumbfounded, still unable to believe most of anything that had happened since he'd turfed the pompous messenger into the bog. 


End file.
